Twisted Spiral
by DreamingAngelWolf
Summary: Desmond, Lucy, Clay, Rebecca and Shaun have known each other since the start of high school. They could tell you everything about one another. What they can't tell you is why one of them suddenly starts acting strange, or even when it happens - they just know something is wrong. Very wrong.
1. Chapter 1

Twisted Spiral

Desmond dropped his bag onto the bench and promptly flopped down after it, letting his head fall onto his arms with a groan. Next to him, Rebecca started to repeatedly poke his shoulder, and he could only bear ten seconds of it before he mumbled an indistinct "Fuck off" that he was sure she could translate on her own. He heard her smirk, but at least the poking stopped.

"What's wrong Desmond?" Lucy asked from across the table.

Wearily, he picked up his head to talk to her. "Vidic has gone and given us two days to write a full report of an experiment we did _last week_. I can barely remember yesterday, never mind seven days back!" he complained.

"Well you are in a pickle then," Shaun said. "What would really be useful is if you had some notes or something. You know, so that you could remind yourself of how badly it went?"

Desmond glared at him. "Yeah, thanks Shaun. I wonder where they are."

"I gave them back to you, Desmond. It's not my fault you've lost them again."

"Of all the days you could have chosen to go to a science fayre - why that one? _Why_ Shaun?"

"At the time I thought it would be rather entertaining to hear about how you floundered your way through biology without me. Now I realise it's just resulted in me being marked down for your stupidity."

"The bottle lables were switched, I swear -!"

"Guys, knock it off!" Rebecca interrupted. "Desmond, just borrow someone else's notes from that class. Shaun, it would do you good to get an average grade for once. Vidic will think you're cheating otherwise." Shaun opened his mouth to protest again but a raised eyebrow from Rebecca made him quickly close it.

"So besides Vidic mentally torturing you as per usual, have you had a good day?" Lucy asked.

"Not bad I suppose. How 'bout you guys?"

Rebecca nodded. "Yeah, been pretty good."

"I was having a fine day, until I realised I was going to fail a biology report." Rebecca flicked Shaun's ear - hard. "Ow! Rebecca! That was uncalled for!"

"Shut up Grumpy."

"I've had a good day, thanks," Lucy said through her laughter. Desmond smiled at her, then turned to Clay expectantly.

Clay was drawing again, brow furrowed slightly in concentration as he worked the pencil over the paper precisely. "Uh, Clay?" Desmond called. Still he continued to draw. "Clay!"

Clay jumped, jerking the pencil slightly as he finally registered Desmond's voice. "Sorry, what?"

"I just asked if you'd had a good day?"

"Oh." Clay shrugged. "Yeah, it was alright I suppose." That seemed to be all they were getting - Clay straight away went back to his drawing, scowling at the out-of-place line from when he'd been startled. "Sorry, okay?" he mumbled, then resumed sketching.

Confused, the others exchanged glances and raised eyebrows, mainly directed at Lucy. Lucy and Clay had been dating for two years. They had a good relationship, leaving Desmond slightly jealous; Clay was good with wit, which amused Lucy to no end, and Desmond recalled a day when everything he'd said had made her laugh (intentionally, of course). They both shared an interest in ancient history, namely civilisations like the Greeks and Egyptians, and had similar family troubles they both tried to help the other out with. That, and Rebecca declared they were cute together. Desmond and Shaun weren't so sure about that. As it was, though, today Lucy just shrugged - she was as clueless as the rest of them about Clay's random apology.

A short while later, Lucy leaned against Clay's shoulder. "What are you drawing?" she asked. In fact, it was a question on all of their minds; his doodle looked like a triangle with strange eyes inside it, and he was just starting to draw something on the top as well.

"It's..." Clay paused. "I don't know really," he admitted. "I just felt like I should draw it."

"You could put some colour to it," Rebecca suggested cheekily.

Clay threw a wry smile back at her. "It's a doodle, Becca. Nobody cares if it's in colour or not."

"Sure they do! I reckon one day that'll be a famous piece of art, and it would be so cool if I could tell people that I made you do it in colour!"

He rolled his eyes. "Well I only have red in my bag. I dropped my stuff off in art already."

Rebecca let him off. "I still want to see it in colour one day though Kaczmarek," she warned. Clay chuckled, closing his sketchbook and picking up his food. They ate in silence for a moment, each with their own thoughts, until Clay suddenly broke the silence. "What did you say?" he asked Lucy.

Confused, Lucy blinked. "I didn't say anything." Everyone looked at Clay, who frowned at the table as if it had pulled a prank on him.

"Huh," he said eventually. "Guess I heard someone else's conversation. Sorry Luce."

"It's all those eyes," Desmond joked. "They're messing with your head."

"Go swan dive off a cliff, Desmond," he shot back, and the usual banter stared up again. It followed a routine: Clay and Desmond would take turns at throwing casual insults at each other, eventually involving Rebecca, who in turn would somehow bring Lucy into the fray, until one of them made a joke involving Shaun, at which point it turned into a Shaun-teasing session. Shaun would just sit in stony silence, glaring daggers at anyone who was too insulting. Lunch over, they would all split for class, sometimes not seeing each other again until the end of the day, two hours later. Unless they were too busy, they would agree to go somewhere chilled, like the park, and act like any other group of care-free adolescents for the remainder of the day. It was good - it was fun. It was one of those things that would never change before it had to, and for now, that time was a long, long way away.

* * *

A couple of weeks later Desmond was at their usual spot in the park, taking over the jungle gym as per usual. They each had their own spots: Shaun would sit at the mouth of the slide, back straight against the sideboard; Clay and Lucy would lie beside him, pressed together in a low-key PDA way that they were all used to by now; Desmond would sometimes lie at the other end of the platform, if he wasn't sitting up against the back of the climbing wall down that end; and Rebecca would take up position on a platform just above Desmond, watching them all from where she lay (and, if she could, throwing small things like acorns at them). It was comfortable, it was familiar, and on this occasion it was just Clay and Desmond lying on their backs, watching the flat grey sky.

"Hope he doesn't give her a hard time," Clay said, referring to Lucy's father, who'd just called her home.

Desmond shrugged. "Lucy's tough. She'll be fine."

"Yeah..."

Hearing the uncertainty in his friend's tone, Desmond twisted onto his front to reassure him. Catching sight of his expression, though, he stopped. It was a troubled look, and one they'd seen a lot recently. Ever since the lunchtime incident, Clay had been... different. He had always doodled, that was nothing new - it was more that now he doodled much more frequently, and on anything - books, tables, the back of his hand, even in the toilets one time. And his designs were utterly random. Of course, doodles were traditionally random, but these were far too precise to be as meaningless as abstract swirls drawn down the margin of a page. They were often eyes, shapes, or groups of letters and numbers, and every time they asked him why he did it or what they meant Clay answered with the same "I don't know, I just felt like it." They didn't pry, not even Lucy. But it was the muttering that worried them.

"Clay?" Desmond asked. "You okay?"

Clay tipped his head to look at him. "Yeah. Why?"

Sitting up, he wondered how to phrase the question. "It's just that... these doodles. What's up with them? I know you say you do it 'cause you feel like it, but you've never doodled like that before, Clay. What's going on?"

He waited as his friend pushed himself up so that he was also sitting. "I really don't know, Des," he said. "I mean, I guess they're all, like, symbols or something. But I always doodle random stuff when I'm bored. You know that."

"Yeah, when you're _bored_. Normally you doodle in class until we have to work again or someone talks to you, and the same at lunch. Now we practically have to shout at you to get your attention, or to make you stop."

"So I get into it. Big deal."

"Nobody gets that engrossed in doodling, Clay," Desmond said seriously. "Now what about the muttering?"

Clay tensed, shooting him a wary look. "The what?"

"The muttering," he repeated. "That first time you randomly said 'sorry', and then a few days after that you kept saying 'alright'. And the other day you said 'just hold on'." Desmond tried to hold his eye, but Clay wouldn't look at him. "Clay, seriously. Tell us what's -"

"Tell you what?" Clay snapped. "I don't know anything Desmond! So I'm drawing weird stuff. I always draw weird stuff! And the muttering? I don't remember saying any of that."

Desmond blinked. "Whoa, calm down man! We're just worried, that's -"

"Then stop interrogating me!" Clay retaliated. "Don't you trust me or something?" Before Desmond could answer, he scooted to the edge of the platform and hopped down, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stormed off.

"Clay wait!" Desmond called. "Where are you going?" There was no answer. Sighing, and left reeling at how suddenly that had turned ugly, Desmond climbed down himself and headed home, assuming that Clay wouldn't want to be followed. He decided to check in with Lucy later, just on the offchance that that was where his friend was going, but until then he'd give him some time to cool off. Obviously this was now a sensitive subject, and Desmond hoped it was just a phase Clay was going through.


	2. Chapter 2

Twisted Spiral

After almost a month of muttering and strange drawings, the group was worried about Clay - and none more so than Lucy. Oh, she had tried to talk to him about it, but he just wasn't talking back, deflecting her questions altogether or simply dismissing it as quickly as he could. Lucy didn't want to push him for answers, so she let the topic drop practically every time. Part of her wondered if he was just having arguments with his father again; and then another part reasoned that he would have told her alraedy if that was the case, so perhaps it wasn't, and if it was, maybe he was trying to deal with it himself this time.

Still, it was breaking her heart to see Clay acting like this: one minute normal, the next spouting out disjointed, nonsensical phrases that he couldn't (or _wouldn't_) explain. The drawings, she'd quickly realised, were largely religious or philosophical glyphs, which added another layer of bizzareness to this whole episode. Clay was far from religious - hell, he didn't even recognise most of what he scribbled - but again, he refused to diverge the source of his 'inspiration'. It was completely out of character... he had always leaped at the chance to talk about his work with her. What was going on?

The final straw came after school one day, when he was late. It was one of those days where they each had some comittment or other to see to; Desmond was apparently meeting cousins, Rebecca needed to work on a computer program for her boss or something, and Shaun had been given a new assignment he wanted to make a start on. So that left Lucy, waiting for Clay by the school gates. Time dragged on, and the number of school kids lingering around dwindled until she was the last one there. By now, the light was dimming, and grey clouds were creeping over her head, stark shadows with cutting edges against the pale blue-nearly-yellow sky. She was considering calling him, and had her phone out, when a figure striding her way caught her attention. Lucy relaxed as Clay drew closer, and then she saw the look on his face. "Clay?" she asked, her smile slipping into a frown as she went to meet him. "What's wrong?"

Instead of answering, Clay wrapped her in an embrace, one that felt tight and desperate and scared, and sent Lucy's heart rocketing. "Thank God," he breathed into the top of her head. "I thought you'd -" He cut himself off, dipping his head so his cheek rested against her hair.

Hugging him back on impulse (though not nearly as hard) Lucy noted the slight trembling of his breath on her ear, the rigidity of his muscles underneath her arms, and the too-fast pace of his heart against her cheek. "You thought I'd what?" she prompted. She felt him shake his head, and pushed back to look him in the eyes. Normally electric blue, they had darkened substantially, and shimmered as they scanned her features in return, telling her what she needed to know. "Clay, _please_," she begged. "Talk to me."

"It doesn't matter." He started to pull her to him again, but she pushed him back.

"No, it does matter, Clay!" she said, raising her voice. "You're scaring me, you're scaring all of us!" He frowned at her outburst, and she tried a different tact. "We only want to help, okay? If anything's wrong, if anything's going on at home, we'll help. I mean it. But you have to tell us." Lucy swallowed, reaching out to hold onto his shirt. "Please don't let it be a repeat of tenth grade."

Clay's eyes widened for a second, then he cautiously took Lucy's hands in his own, briefly bringing them up to his lips. "Can we go to the park?" he asked hesitantly.

Catching the hidden meaning, Lucy agreed, and they made their way quickly - and silently - to their climbing frame. Rather than adopting their usual position though, Clay sat with his back against the sideboard and pulled Lucy down with him. She didn't argue as she settled back against his chest, encircled in his arms, and tipped her head back to rest it on his shoulder, patiently waiting for him to talk. He always got... not 'clingy', but not quite 'cuddly' either, when he was upset, and Lucy wondered if maybe holding her like this reassured him in some way. So, resting her arms over his, she let him take his time, and was duly rewarded.

"I don't make those drawings for fun," he began, voice low in her ear. "I draw them because someone tells me to."

"Someone?" she echoed softly.

"Yeah."

"Who?"

The answer came after a nervous beat. "Just a voice."

Maybe it was because she had half been expecting it, but the revelation didn't surprise Lucy. Instead, she sighed, a wave of despair filling the space the action left. "That's not good, Clay," she murmured.

"I know." The tremor in his voice was now clearer. "What do I do, Lucy?"

"You get help."

"...I'm scared."

Twisting round in his arms to kneel in front of him, Lucy nodded. "Of course you are," she said, "but you can't let that stop you. And you know that if you need anything then you have a group of friends who would drop everything to help. You've got _me_." Reaching out to stroke back some hair from his forehead, she smiled. "I wouldn't abandon you for the world."

One corner of his mouth stretched up faintly, a ghost of the wry half-smiles he used to give her whenever she amused him. "Isn't that what you said in tenth grade?"

His cheek was warm under her palm. "Doesn't change its meaning," she said as she leant in to press a kiss to his lips, lingering as long as she could before they needed to break apart and breathe. They stayed in that position, though, forehead to forehead, her hand on the side of his face. Eventually she had to break the silence when it looked as though he'd fallen asleep, and in soft tones she coaxed him down from their private place and back into the grey reality of public life. Lucy made a point of lacing their fingers together, keeping as close to Clay as she could and not letting him go once they stopped outside his door until he'd promised to call someone. Then, after watching him disappear inside, she made the rest of the journey home alone, battling with her thoughts as her own fear threatened to break her from the inside out.

* * *

Normally, Shaun liked quiet. Quiet meant no distractions, meant that he could work properly and focus fully on what he was doing. This time, however, quiet meant that he was the only one working, when their teacher had explicitly said they were supposed to do it in pairs. It was the very reason he'd insisted on coming to the library, so they could work quickly; and yes, maybe Clay had been going through some strange times lately, but Shaun would be damned if he let another of his friends drag his grade down due to their stupidity.

Pausing in his work, Shaun looked up at his friend, mildly horrified to see that Clay hadn't even written down his cluster of equations. In fact, said friend was just staring off into space, apparently oblivious to everything around him. Shaun was going to change that. "Clay," he said sharply, "as much as I appreciate the fact that things have been 'strange' for you lately, would you kindly put your troubles to one side for half an hour so that we can complete the work set? It's a joint effort task, and no matter how desperate I may seem for a decent grade, I refuse to do your portion of the work myself. Does that seem fair?"

"I have Schizophrenia."

Whatever response Shaun had been expecting, it most certainly wasn't _that_. He blinked, jaw slackening slightly as he put down his pencil. "…oh," he managed to say after a minute of gawping. Rousing himself, he mumbled, "Well, I'm sure the others have already told you that we'll be here and everything, so –"

"I haven't told the others."

Shaun balked. "Excuse me?"

Clay finally looked at him, blue eyes only betraying a hint of worry. "You're the first person I've told, Shaun," he said quietly. "I only found out this morning, and normally I don't see anyone but you until after lunch today."

"Right. So, did they offer any… solutions?"

"It sounds like they want to try some drugs with me first. They should alleviate the symptoms, but there's no saying how effective they'll be in the long run."

His friend frowned behind his glasses. "Um, well as… flattered… as I am that you thought you could tell me first, Clay," he began awkwardly, "might I ask why you didn't wait until lunchtime to tell us all?"

The blonde shrugged. "Ever since we got here I've been working up the courage to tell you," he admitted. "I figured if I could tell you, it would prepare me for telling everyone else." When Shaun continued to look puzzled, he explained further; "You're the least likely person to freak out on me."

"Uh, thanks." As touched as he was that Clay chose to confide in him first, he couldn't help but feel that someone else should have been graced with that knowledge before him. "Why haven't you told Lucy?" Clay froze. "Doesn't she deserve to know before me?" There was no answer, and Shaun narrowed his eyes at him. "You will tell her, won't you Clay?"

"Yeah," he said hesitantly. "I will. But – just promise me you won't tell her first. That you won't tell any of them."

"Only if you promise that you will." It was probably too long coming, but Clay nodded, and so Shaun nodded in return. "Okay. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to do well in maths this year. Is there anything you need me to help you with?"

He murmured that there wasn't, and finally bent his head down to work. Shaun followed suit, wondering if the diversion of topic hadn't been a bit hard-hearted of him. After all – _Schizophrenia_. It made sense, he supposed, but how had they not seen the signs? And what would that mean for their friend? Lucy wasn't going to take this news well; suddenly Shaun understood Clay's reluctance to tell her. But they both knew she'd be even more upset if he didn't tell her. Nobody wanted a repeat of tenth grade.

"Shaun?"

Blinking, Shaun looked up from the unfinished equation he'd been staring at for – five minutes? Oh. Clay was watching him with a slight smile on his face, the worry almost completely gone from his eyes. Shaun cleared his throat. "Yes?"

"Thanks."

He flushed, and went back to concentrating on his work with a muttered "You're welcome," though he didn't quite know what he was being thanked for. He tried hard to ignore it when Clay started whispering to no-one in particular.


End file.
